


where the road leads us

by smoll_jane



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Escape, Fate, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Road Trips, Starting Over, Strangers to Lovers, Two lost souls finding each other, non explicit mentions of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoll_jane/pseuds/smoll_jane
Summary: There is something so odd about feeling safe for the first time in your life when you've never ever thought about the meaning of this word.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	where the road leads us

  
At some point, he thought he would stop feeling the pain, it would overflow and go away. But right now, it is screaming, he'd like to cut his feet off and let them on the roadside. Funnily, he's wondering what went through his mind when he chose this pair of shoes, flat, a simple layer of rubber between his soles and the concrete. Nothing, maybe. He had something else in mind at that moment, shoes and comfort were a stupid detail.

Run away. That's all he wanted. The harassing thought he couldn't get off of his mind.

A bitter taste fills in his mouth. Regrets, mixed with relief. Paradoxical, right ? He'll have to pay for this choice later, when he'll allow himself to lie down, when his mind will have time to get lost. _The bruises, don't forget the bruises._ But he knows he'll always get reminded that he took the right decision, crossed the good line no matter what it would cost him.

The sky is pretty. He's the witness of an immaculate sunset. One side is already dark, if he squints he can already see some stars. And on the other hand, where the sun is saying goodbye, there's a rainbow of orange, bright pink and bloody red. He'd like to be able to mix paint and recreate these colors. Get stains on his hands for days before it fades and disappears. Stains he would have chosen to cover his body with. Not like the usual. But he forgot his stuff and won't have money to buy new equipment for a really long time. Maybe he never will.

The road seems to be never-ending. He left the city long hours ago, letting life and animation behind, alone between fields. He passed in front of flowers, corns, cows. Maybe even pumpkins, but he may have dreamt. It is the season, though, but he never knew people grew pumpkins in the country.

Talking about Fall, there's something else he's regretting to have forgotten. His sweatshirt is thin, sticks to his skin with sweat and slowly freezes. The hip of his bag is creating a groove on his shoulder, digging his skin and weighing on his back.

At least the view is nice and the road peasant, he thinks. _But what's the plan ?_ There's no plan. At least no other plan than running away. _Safety. That's it._

Yeah, that is the word. He wants to be safe. Even if his actual situation is nothing but safe, it is still more than it was at home.

Home.

He stops, stares at the sky for a moment. He has no more home. He has nowhere to return. Nowhere where he belongs. A single tear runs down his cheek. He smiles.

He's free.

*

It is completely dark when headlights lighten the road from behind him. Used to hear nothing but his tired steps, it takes him a few more seconds to hear the engine getting closer. A big and dark blue Jeep overtakes him, and he only understands it is stopping when he sees the red lights on the trunk.

He holds back a shiver when the passenger door opens. Oh. Thanks to the headlight he can see a silhouette inside the car waving for him to come. What he still have of survival instinct begs him to run away, but what would it be useful for ? Chance is all he got left.

He jogs on a few meters to reach the car, not knowing how since his feet are close to death, and stands next to the open door. There's a boy his age inside, smile bright and skin gloomy despite the dark. Eyes kind, too.

He asks where he's going. He calls him "my friend".

This time, the shiver runs down his spine unrestrained. _My friend_. He smiles, honestly, genuinely to this stranger that called him his friend.

But where is he going? He doesn't know. He shrugs, tells the young boy he's going the same direction as him. His voice sounds so neat, real, free. No tears clogging his throat, no fear of wrong words that would trigger a punch.

His smile grows bigger and the boy taps the seat next to him. He jumps in the car, almost whimpering at the sensation of sitting down, of having no weight on his feet and no burden on his back. The car smells good. A mix of cinnamon and cold coffee, maybe a touch of cologne too.

The driver asks him what his name is. His voice is relaxing, low and warm. He says it's late and cold to walk alone like this, that he's brave. Brave. That's a word he never heard. What does it mean?

Oh. The question. His name. He could change it. He could start everything again. Take a new start. But his name is who he is. No matter what, he still is who he is, who he was born as. Things didn't change his identity, life didn't make him an other person. Plus, his name is the last thing he has left from Mom. He turns the head to look at the boy's profile. Even his face is relaxing. Reassuring and beautiful.

Minghao. His name is Minghao. And his voice doesn't shake at all.

A chuckle, and the boy's upper lip curl above his canines in a shining smile. Quickly, he looks at Minghao to make their eyes meet, and the next second he looks at the road again.

It's nice to meet him, he says. And then, honey drips down his lips when he tells his name. Mingyu. Couldn't suit him better. Minghao turns the name in his head, plays with it, holds back a smile. Mingyu. It sounds sweet.

It takes Minghao a second to realize Mingyu is reaching for his hand, not looking away from the dark concrete running under the headlights. He shakes his hand, blesses the feeling of human life. When he lowers the head to see Mingyu's hand, he also sees his own. His wrist, his forearm.

_It's done Minghao. Forever._

With a smile, Minghao takes his hand back, looks at the road too. A reflex pushes him to pull on his sleeve to hide his skin, but something tells him he doesn't have to hide, won't ever have to again. And his smile grows bigger. He doesn't touch his sleeve.

Mingyu drives in silence, humming to the radio that passes old songs Minghao isn't really sure to know, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm, a never-leaving smile stretching his lips. His lips that, as well as his skin, look even softer than the single blanket he ever had and always associated to the softest thing in the world.

Because the world, before, was four walls and artificial lights and screams and pain. Fake smiles and saying "I fell in the stairs" at school when the teachers ask him where he got all those bruises. And then, no more school, no escape for some hours in a day with friends that don't know anything about him. Back between the walls. Cardboard against the windows, rice for breakfast, rice for lunch, rice for dinner. Sometimes, no breakfast, no lunch, no dinner. A door closing, heart beating faster, and pain again. Choking on tears to fall asleep because you have to be quiet if you don't want to get hit again.

It is good. Knowing all of this is behind. Knowing that except for the car, there's nothing around him to hold him back in a place he doesn't want to be in. Knowing that every turn the wheels make takes him a bit further from all of this.

Mingyu takes him back to the _real_ world by asking if he's not cold.

The words float in the cabin for a second, try to escape, but before they can Minghao's mind catch them and he chuckles. He's never been so warm before. Not hot, but warm. The kind of warmth he barely remembers from when Mom was still there to hug him when he was having nightmares.

"I'm okay," he says.

An other new thing. Being okay, being able to say it and not doubting his sayings. Knowing that he _is_ okay. He is fine, more than he's even been.

Mingyu nods, smiles a bit brighter for a second, and the next one he's rummaging through a bag on the back seat, holding the steering wheel with a hand and trying to keep looking at the road. As he turns to watch behind him, his hair brushes Minghao's face off, Minghao can smell the sweet scent of coco and conditioner. Mingyu then comes back to his seat and puts a fluffy sweatshirt on Minghao's lap. It seems like he notices Minghao's confused look and he chuckles.

"You're shaking boy."

That, for a fact, is true. When Minghao looks down to his hands, they're shaking, and in a finger snap he feels the cold invading him, freezing him to the core. Putting the clothe on is hard, with shaky hands like his, and Mingyu helps him for a bit, pulling on the fabric to cover his back. Firm but soft, confident but respectful. When he takes it back, Minghao would like for him to keep it there, he would like to relearn that there is something else than violence.

*

Later, when Mingyu's eyes seem to close a bit too long when he blinks, he parks at a gas station and tells Minghao he has to sleep for a while. Minghao nods, of course he has to sleep, he's been driving for so long. He says that, but he has no idea for how long he's been driving, still doesn't know where he's heading to, knows nothing about the boy he's been sitting next to for the past hours.

But still, Mingyu gives him some cash and tells him to treat himself if he's hungry or thirsty, and that there are blankets on the back seat. Minghao keeps on nodding and soon enough understands he'll be alone with his thoughts while Mingyu will be sleeping. Which doesn't take long, because after a few seconds his eyelids already soften the pressure and he has the face Mom had when she was dreaming. That's one of the last thing he can recall about Mom. When she was dreaming. She would always tell him what it was about in the morning, before he would go to school, terrified that she wouldn't be there when he'd come home.

Until the day she actually wasn't there anymore. Her body was, but the bruises and wounds had let her soul get away, get free. And Minghao had been alone ever since with no one to tell him about dreams.

He leaves the car, careful to be quiet when closing the door, and shuffles around to the small shop whose neon lights flicker weakly. He pushes the door and a sweet bell rings, welcoming him as a head pops up from behind the counter, at the back of the store. He doesn't exactly know why he's there, isn't hungry nor thirsty nor doesn't want to use Mingyu's money. He wanders through the few alleys for a bit, looks at all this food he's never heard of or forgot the taste of, smiles when he remembers something from when everything was still normal. That was a long, long time ago.

And then he ends up facing the pharmacy section. It's like it triggers something in him, and suddenly he feels all the pain in his body again. The feet, the knees from when he fell in the stairs before running away, his shoulder, the sunburns on his face. Well, maybe he can use the money and refund Mingyu back, someday. That's weird, projecting in the "later".

The cashier stares at him when he drops band aids, cotton, a lotion and sanitizer on the counter with an embarrassed smile.

"You got gas to pay ?" is unexpectedly all he says, even though Minghao was already planning on how to explain his purchases.

Instead, he shakes the head and slides the money on the old wood, gnawed by time. It has surely seen more than him in the few years he's lived. There are scratches, places where it's polished and shiny, others where it's crooked and raw, wounded. A bit like him. The cashier talks, Minghao looks up to him. What did he say ? He's shaking a piece of paper, Minghao nods and ends up out of the store with a plastic bag. From afar, he sees the Jeep, only car on the parking lot, and Mingyu inside, peacefully sleeping.

Minghao goes back inside and buys a soda and melon bread for Mingyu before going back to the car.

He has nowhere else to go to treat his injuries, so he tries not to make a sound when he takes his jeans off and winces when touching his knees. His feet, too, scream when the shoes that had become like a second skin finally end up on the car floor. He doesn't know if it burns or freezes when he puts lotion on his heels before sticking plasters, but he can already tell it feels better.

Now, the knees. Hopefully, his jeans are black, because it bled so much they would have been recolored in dark red. It's crazy how your body can make the pain hush when adrenaline takes the lead of it. How you could almost be dying and still, nothing would hurt because your body decides you have to survive first.

The cotton on his knees is too much, he whines at the pain it causes. He quickly eyes Mingyu, still deeply asleep next to him, to make sure he didn't wake him up. He goes back at task, sighs at the sight of how quickly the cotton soaks up the blood. He will never have enough of it at this rate. At some point, he finds a pace and the right move to clean the wounds just how they need, and he can act as if he doesn't feel anything.

He startles when he notices the deep breathing of Mingyu stopped next to him. Turns the head and realizes he's awake, hazel eyes widely open. "Whoa, that's some scary scars you got there." Minghao tries to chuckle, but his back hurts at the shaking it throws. "Wait, you will never be done like this."

Before Minghao can say anything, Mingyu leaves the car and disappear in the dark, his footsteps as only sound in the night. Minghao vaguely hears the door of the store slamming and the bell ringing, and he leans in his seat, sighing. He's tired, so tired.

If Mingyu didn't come back, he'd have fallen asleep in the next five seconds. But Mingyu does come back and he stays awake. He comes to the passenger side, this time. It is funny, how he's unable to hide the shock in his eyes at the sight of blood. He opens the door but can't stop staring at the bright red stains spread all over his knees. He has a plastic bag in his hand, the other one strongly gripping the door.

"It's okay, I can take care of it. You should try to sleep."

But Mingyu doesn't hear it in this ear and kneels in front of the car, unpacking the content of his bag. Minghao suddenly feels embarrassed, his underwear as only shield he has, vulnerable. That is the only thing he's thankful for. The man never touched him like he did with Mom. He never hurt him this way, never stole him this part of him. Because every time he did with Mom, she looked like a part of her went away. And right now, Mingyu doesn't make him feel insecure, doesn't scare him. And it shows he is trying not to. He carefully dabs the wounds, puts some alcohol on the cotton and constantly checks Minghao's reaction to be sure he does not harm him. It hurts, of course, but Minghao doesn't show it. He's too focused on Mingyu's delicacy to waste time by showing his pain. When Mingyu takes out bandages and puts a gentle but firm hand on Minghao's thigh to steady it, a shiver runs down Minghao's spine. Mingyu does it again with the other leg, not noticing the slight pink blush on Minghao's face.

He never felt this way before. Being taken care of. Of course, Mom took care of him like no one else did, and he truly loved her and he still does now. He's thankful for her, for everything she did for him. But right now, this is different. He feels safety coming at the corner, he feels like nothing bad can happen ever again. He feels alive. He feels free. He feels things again. And that is brand new.

It surprises himself when he lifts a hand to Mingyu's nape and caress his hair, on the area right before it lets place to skin. It surprises him but he doesn't stop, and Mingyu gives him a surprised look too. And he smiles. And it's so sweet Minghao can't stop staring.

"Thank you."

Mingyu nods, catches Minghao's arm to squeeze it before standing up.

"I hope it'll get better."

When Mingyu closes the door to come back to his place, Minghao whispers "It will.". Mingyu can't hear.

It makes a small _pof_ when Mingyu sits back on his seat, and the fresh night air gets stuck outside when he closes the door. It is warm inside. Still smells like cinnamon and coffee, but now Minghao can smell Mingyu's perfume too. It is clearer than the first time he went in the car. Honey, rain and fir tree. And slumber. He chuckles when he notices how hard Mingyu is fighting to stay awake.

"You should sleep now."

He doesn't have to get asked twice, and when he smiles, his eyes turning in crescent moons, they're kept close. It only takes a few heartbeats for his breathing to gets deeper and longer. Minghao smiles. He'd love to fall asleep this peacefully and this quickly.

He puts his pants back on, wincing at the pain, and leans back on his seat. He should try, at least. He closes his eyes, tightens the sleeves of Mingyu's sweater. They're too long for him, they completely cover his hands. It smells like him. He feels like he's slowly taken to Wonderland, but just before he can call it a win, images flicker in his mind.

Demons come at night.

He's used to nightmares. They're his best companions, always there for him. Rock all his nights, sing lullabies to take him with them. It's been a long time since he last cared about them. He's used to insomnias, to crying and screaming in his sleep. Especially when he sees Mom dying. They're always the worst. Painful, _real_. But tonight he can't scream, he can't cry. To control it, he feels his hands starting to shake, his chest lifting up faster and faster.

And there it is. Like a firefighter in the blaze, like a lighthouse in a storm. Mingyu takes his hands. "Shhh, it's okay. Everything's fine. You're safe." The last word. Safe. Someone telling him he's safe. It's like water on the flames, like the achor finally diving in the sand. Mingyu gently pushes his head for it to lean on his shoulder, still repeating the same three sentences. Minghao's breath slows down. His hands stop shaking, his eyelids stop throbbing.

_You're safe Minghao._

Mom never lied to him. Mom never told him he was safe. Because he wasn't. Mingyu doesn't look like a liar. Mingyu tells him the truth. He's safe. He's finally safe.

*

He wakes up to the sun hitting his face. It is hard to open his eyes under such strong rays, especially since you've been kept away from the sun for years. Minghao blinks a few times, automatically raises a hand to cover his eyes.

"Oh sorry."

Mingyu lowers the sun visor as soon as he notices Minghao is awake, and it's only when he does that Minghao realizes they were holding hands. He blushes and looks away, sinking in the sweater. They're on the road again, fields and flowers rolling before his eyes. It's a beautiful day. And a warm day. Quickly, he feels suffocating under the fluffy fabric of the clothe and has to take it off.

When Minghao turns to the back seat to put the sweater back where Mingyu took it the eve, his eyes widen. It was too dark to see before, but now he discovers dozens of boxes on the seats and in the trunk.

"Are you moving out?"

Mingyu chuckles, eyes not leaving the road. He shrugs, a glimmer of melancholy passing by in his eyes.

"I'm going to the sea, and after that... well I'll see!"

 _The sea_. Minghao has never seen the sea.

"That's perfect...," he whispers. Mingyu looks at him, intrigued, a small smile stretching his lips.

Minghao leans back in his seat. His hands slide on his legs, he remembers Mingyu's palms on his thighs. There are tickling in the hand Mingyu was holding. It was good. Human warmth. Hot palm a shield, delicate fingers a safety net.

"What about you? What are you doing?"

That's a good question. Running away. Getting his life back.

"Starting again. Everything."

Sometimes your heart speaks faster than your mind. Minghao feels himself smiling. Brightly, genuinely. He looks at the road again, scrolling by so fast he feels like flying for a second.

He is starting everything again.

*

At some point, Mingyu stops at a gas station to buy lunch. They find a table behind the store, alone in the grass, cars on the highway as a background music. The wind is crazy here, dances in Mingyu's hair and makes him laugh. He likes the wind, he tells Minghao. Makes him feel dizzy and free. Minghao nods. That's true. The wind makes him feel free too.

Between two bites of his triangle sandwich, Mingyu asks :

"Do you believe in fate Minghao?"

Minghao is lost in contemplation, doesn't immediately understand Mingyu was talking to him. The sun shines bright on his skin, golden and silver. Minghao once had golden paint, a long time ago. When he was still allowed to paint. That was the best day of his life. The color was so beautiful he looked at it for hours, didn't dare to use it immediately. When he did, it looked faded once on paper, didn't shine the same way. But now, it shines even brighter than before Minghao used the paint. It's the most stunning thing he's ever laid his eyes on. Mingyu chuckles, it sounds clear and appeasing. The words finally reach Minghao, after a detour through the loops of the wind.

Fate.

"I don't know what fate means."

Mingyu smiles, takes an other bite of his sandwich. He looks away for a moment, where the fields become sky and where the sky becomes fields. For a second, the highway noise disappears, there is just Mingyu and his hazel eyes looking far, far away. Finally, these eyes stare at Minghao, and he swears there are gold flakes in them. They're there, swimming in the hazel pool, in this warm and fond pool directed at Minghao, just at him and no one else.

"Fate is ... like a story. As if everything has been written centuries before things happen, and then it happens exactly like it was written. If the story decides two people will meet at the moment they need it the most, then they will meet at the moment they need it the most. Because it was written, because fate decided so."

Minghao nods. He can't look away from Mingyu's eyes. The gold flakes are stars. Like the ones that were adorning the sky before he climbed in his car, the day before. The stars are sparkling, dancing, not even bothered by the strong wind outside. They're protected by Mingyu. Mingyu is a protector. Mingyu protects the stars and everything that's beautiful in this world. Minghao nods again.

"Then yes, I guess I believe in fate."

Mingyu's smile grows bigger, the stars flutter for a while, and a gust of wind shakes Mingyu, which makes him laugh. Minghao smiles. He feels it even more now, the freedom that wind gifts them. He also understands what fate is.

He loves fate.

*

Mingyu looks exhausted when he pulls up in front of a motel whose neon lights flicker weakly, a few letters too tired to work. He turns the engine off and rubs his face.

"Sorry but I need to lie down for a night. I really need a bed." There's a chuckle of embarrassment in his voice when he looks at Minghao for approval. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

Minghao quickly shakes his head. Of course not, it doesn't bother him. Why would it? And then, a word ring in his mind. _Bed_. A bed, a real bed. He can't remember the last time he slept on a bed. Maybe he never did, actually. It seems too far away.

There is an odd excitement in his stomach when they enter the motel reception. The girl behind the counter looks bored and gives no reaction to their entrance.

"There's only one bed per room."

Minghao, standing behind Mingyu, notices his nape going red before he hides it to scratch his skin. Mingyu talks with the girl for a little while and turns back to face Minghao.

"I don't have enough money for two rooms ... I don't mind sleeping in the same bed but ... do you?"

Minghao shakes his head again, and three minutes later they enter a room. There is maroon carpet on the floor, at the back, curtains the same color are drawn. And in the middle of the room, a bed. He can't see himself, but Minghao is sure his excitement can be seen in his eyes. Mingyu drops a small bag on the floor, turns the light of the bathroom on, inspecting it. He finally comes back to Minghao, still staring at the bed with a smile stretching his lips, chuckles.

"You can take a shower if you want, I have shower gel and shampoo in my bag."

Minghao nods frantically and doesn't have to get asked twice. Once locked in the bathroom, he takes his clothes off, sees himself in the mirror. Stains. So many stains. Rainbow bruises, burning scars, scratches.

_They will soon be gone. They will disappear and never come back._

The water flows on his back like a relief, heats his body, covers every single area of it with warmth. It is good. It feels good. The shower gel smells good too, is soft on his limbs, covers them with pink bubbles.

When he gets out of the shower, sees himself again, it feels like the stains are already faded, blurred with steam on the mirror. He puts his clothes back on and leaves the room, finds Mingyu sitting on the bed, holding his head with both of his hands, rubbing his temples.

"Are you okay?"

When he hears him and looks up, the smile immediately comes back. He points at a pile of clothes on a table.

"You can wear them. Yours are a little worn out."

He chuckles and leaves to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he comes back, only wearing shorts and suddenly blushes when he sees Minghao.

"Does it ... do you mind if I sleep like this?" Minghao shakes his head. Mingyu clears his throat. "Make yourself comfortable too if you'd like."

Mingyu doesn't last to take place on the bed, sliding under the sheets. He looks even more tired than the day before. It would probably take him less than a blink to fall asleep. But Minghao takes his clothes off, keeping only his underwear, and Mingyu's eyes snap open. His stare linger on the stains, one by one. As he does, he slowly sits down on the bed, the cover sliding down his chest, his mouth falling open.

"Ming... Minghao what happened to you?"

Finally. He asks. Minghao thought he'd never do. He folds his clothes, carefully puts them on the table next to the ones Mingyu lent him and comes to the bed, feeling the mattress slightly sink under his weight as he covers himself with the already warmed up sheets. He lies down, the cushion printing the shape of his head. He crosses his hands on his chest, like he used to do before, stares at the ceiling. He senses Mingyu turning to him, still sitting down.

"Yesterday was the first time I left the cellar of my house in years. But I'm out now. Everything's fine."

Mingyu lies down too, and the counterweights makes Minghao slightly slide against him. He can feel Mingyu's warmth now.

"I was right. You're really brave."

They stay silent for a moment, breath synchronizing, eyes on the ceiling. After a little while, Mingyu gropes the nightstand to turn the lights off, and everything turns dark. Minghao takes a deep breath.

"Mingyu?" He doesn't know why, but he whispers. Maybe to keep the demons away.

"Yeah?" Mingyu whispers too.

"Can you hold my hand again? Like yesterday?"

There is no sound for a few seconds, but after his Minghao hears the sheets wrinkling and the mattress moves. After this, two arms wrap around him, warmly, gently. Minghao catches Mingyu's waist and nudges his face in the crook of his neck. Mingyu's warmth doesn't last to invade him whole, to relax him.

After a few minutes, he hears an odd sound. Mingyu's shoulders start shaking. It doesn't last until Mingyu starts sobbing against Minghao's head. Minghao tightens his embrace, whispers against Mingyu's skin.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I made a mistake." Mingyu's voice is weak, cracks on the last word. "I'm afraid I should've never left." The first tears are cold on Minghao's skin.

"Mingyu?"

"Yeah?"

"If you left, if you took the decision to leave, I'm sure it wasn't a mistake. You wouldn't have made all this way if it was a mistake."

Mingyu nods, sniffs. He hushes for a moment, but then he sighs, tightens his arms around Minghao.

"I'm afraid to be alone."

There's a moment of silence. Minghao has never been afraid of being alone. Because that's all he ever knew. He nods against Mingyu's shoulder.

"You're not alone."

A new moment's beat. Minghao's heart misses a beat when he feels Mingyu's arms releasing their embrace. But the next second, the warmth is there again. On Minghao's lips. Mingyu's lips cover his, it is nice, it is good. But right after, Mingyu breaks the contact, lets Minghao's body become cold again and lies on his back, taking his arms back.

"I'm sorry."

It was nice, it was good. It was warm. Minghao shakes his head but Mingyu can't see. He shifts closer to his body, closer to the warmth, and wraps his arm around Mingyu's chest, leans his face against it. Mingyu freezes for a second, but the next one he shrouds him again. Minghao slightly lifts his head up to try looking at him despite the darkness. He remembers what Mom used to do. He raises a hand to Mingyu's cheek, caresses it with his thumb.

"You're not alone Mingyu."

Tonight, he doesn't have nightmares.

*

When they leave the motel the next morning, the sky is grey, the wind strong. Mingyu says they should reach the sea later in the day. Minghao is wearing his clothes. They're too big, he's floating in them. Checkered pants he had to roll up on his ankles, a black turtleneck in which he could fit twice. When he put it on, Mingyu looked at him, amused and said "You gotta eat a lot to fill it." and Minghao laughed.

In the car, Mingyu puts some alternative rock that makes him smile. He says it reminds him of his teenage years, that he used to listen to it all the time. Minghao says he likes it. Teenage years were the worst for him, but he's happy to see it's not the case for everyone, he feels like sharing a bit of Mingyu's past happiness.

"What do you want to do? Later?", Mingyu asks, grabbing Minghao's hand.

Minghao doesn't immediately understand Mingyu is talking about the future. Minghao doesn't immediately realize he _has_ a future. He looks down on their hands, smiles at how bigger than his Mingyu's hand is. And so, so much tanner than him. So, future? Minghao tries to remember the few positive things he had in his life. There it is.

"I want to paint."

Mingyu smiles, squeezes his hand. Having a future. So many new things to think about. He likes having to think about new things. He likes new things.

*

Minghao is dozing off when the engine turns off. He opens his eyes and finally sees it. The sea. This infinite body of water, reaching the sky, far away. The sky is still grey, covered with clouds. The wind is still blowing, rocking the waves and pushing them to the shore. Not looking back, Minghao gets out of the car and runs to the beach. Sand invades his shoes but he doesn't care. He gets to hear the waves crashing in front of him, the seagulls screaming above him. He gets to see the eternal fight of which wave will reach the shore first, he gets to see himself standing in front of the sea.

He feels good, for real. He feels fine like he never did before.

There is something so odd about feeling safe for the first time in your life when you've never ever thought about the meaning of this word. But when Mingyu joins him and covers his shoulders with a jacket as he didn't even feel he was shaking, when he feels the fresh air of freedom filling in his lungs, when Mingyu's arm comes wrapping around his shoulders too, he feels safe. Terribly safe.

Minghao smiles. It is a victory. For him, for the life he never had, for the dreams he never allowed himself to think about, for the paint stuck on his fingers that made him cry because he thought it would never get away, for the stains on his skin. He won't ever have stains again. He'll keep the paint on his fingers. He'll dream.

He'll live. Because he won.

"Would you stay with me?"

Minghao looks at the sea, then at the stars in Mingyu's eyes. He nods, and the waves crash and the seagulls scream and the world goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> hi there~
> 
> i'm back with a new one-shot, hope you liked it! 
> 
> as usual, let me know what you thought of it and take care ♡


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